


Razor's Kiss

by amoonlitknight



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Comedy, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Not exactly PWP but getting there, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoonlitknight/pseuds/amoonlitknight
Summary: (Post-finale)After a two-month mission to the Crimson Wastes, Adora stops by Mystacor for a relaxing bath before heading home. However, someone special is too excited to wait to see her, and the realities of survival living become a point of some contention.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 230





	Razor's Kiss

Adora slid into the baths gratefully, happily inhaling a great lungful of mineral-enriched steam. Stopping at Mystacor on her way home to Brightmoon was _so_ worth it.

It was nice having a spaceship, sometimes.  
  
She was desperate for it. The warm water seemed to just _melt_ two months in the Crimson Wastes and dozens of battles out of her bones and aching joints. As much fun as hanging out with Huntara, and participating in her attempts to create a real civilization out there was, it didn't make the desert any less harsh or the work any less stressful.   
  
Part of her felt bad—a distant, remote part of her that wanted her to feel guilty for how pleasant having her stress melting away was. She had the power of She-Ra, which meant that a lot more of her bruises and getting battered around went away once everything was said and done. But it was easy to quiet that part of herself down when she observed that, in turn, she was the one stepping up and taking the brunt of the attack for that very reason.

Ah, the water was wonderful. She could all but _feel_ the aches leaking out of her joints. Sucks walking on bare rock all the time. Bow and Glimmer had been right all along, as usual...

Still, there were some nice things about just taking a quick shower.

_Like how Catra would slink her way in, and—_

Adora grinned warmly and lowered herself into the bath, letting her hair splay on the surface. Mystacor was nice and all, but home had some _very_ compelling appeal of its own.

“Oh, I know _that_ smile.”

For a moment, Adora believed she'd imagined it. It was, after all, a voice she'd been missing desperately these last couple months. She sat up, and peered around in the haze of the baths.

“Catra?”  
  
“Happy memories, huh?”

A shape was moving, quickly and quietly, through the mists. Adora blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her vision.

“Double Trouble, if that's you, I swear, I'll throttle you—”

A pair of hands gently cradled her head from behind.

“It's me,” Catra said, and kissed Adora's forehead.

Adora's heart melted. This—this is what she'd needed her whole life, and had never known—never _let_ herself know.

“How are you here?” Adora whispered, leaning back into the gentle...well, not _embrace,_ per se, but Catra wasn't about to take a dip. The hands were firm, but gentle, and intertwined with her hair thoughtlessly.

“You told Bow you were going to stop here,” Catra said, scoffing just a bit. “You know we're friends, right? The whole, 'I'm a good guy now' thing, and he's fun to tease and hang out with stuff? He _told_ me. We live in the same castle, remember? Come on, Adora, keep it together.”

“That was _yesterday_.”

“I mean, I dunno. You have a spaceship, I have a...Melog,” Catra murmured. “Their people managed to scare off Horde Prime centuries before we did. They're very useful.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Why are you arguing about this? Come on, aren't you glad to see me?” Catra asked, probably a little less jokingly than she meant to. She rallied quickly, though. “I _know_ you were just thinking about me.”

Adora opened her eyes, and there her Catra was, a smug little half-smile on her face. Just like she'd wanted.

Catra winked.

“Yeah,” Adora said, letting the grin spread on her face again. “I missed you.”  
  
“I'd miss me too.”

They laughed, and smiled, and were in love with each other. Catra let Adora's head go so that she could pull up a stool.

Adora soaked for awhile and just chatted with Catra—about the mission, about the fights, about how Huntara could break a melon between her forearm and bicep, about the pranks Catra had been pulling on Glimmer and Bow...anything, really. Life had changed— _they_ had changed. For the better, the calmer, the closer.

A few minutes became half an hour, became—well, time passes quickly with good company, as everyone well knows.

“Ugh, the water's barely hot anymore,” Adora observed. “And I'm getting all pruney. Look.”

Catra snickered. “Gross.”  
  
“Ugh, shut up...”  
  
Adora grabbed the rim of the tub and lifted herself out, pleased to notice a general absence of the stiffness and aches that had plagued her on the way here from the Wastes. She cracked her neck, her back, stretched her shoulders...

She could feel Catra's quiet, patient gaze on her skin, and reveled in it. It was her turn for once—they'd had enough time alone together in peace and love for the image of moonslight dancing across Catra's lithe, gentle curves to be carved into Adora's brain. She was the muscley one, and didn't get as many chances to show off.

“See something you like, huh?” she asked, turning around.

“I'm pretty pleeeeeaaaAAAHHHHHAHAHAHA what is _that_!?”

Catra stifled herself as best she could, but was clearly still amused. Adora looked down, and sighed.

She _was_ a bit...overgrown. But that was no excuse.

“Whatever it is, I clearly caught it from you, fuzzball,” she smarmed.

“Oh, no. Nonononono,” Catra managed between snickers. “I have _fur_. Totally different. And I _trim_ it, thank you very much. But that—that is—”

“Oh, come on, Catra, be mature. I've been growing this since I was twelve.”

“ _That_ is two month's worth...? No, no, you were letting it go before then, weren't you,” Catra observed in a thoughtful kind of way. She was the other person who would know, after all.

“Ugh, Catra, come on,” Adora growled, feeling herself flush. “Look, it's not like I had a razor, okay?”  
  
“You have the Sword, don't you?”  
  
“I am _not_ using a magic sword to trim my pubic hair, Catra!”

“Can't you...like, change the shape?” Catra said, smiling _very_ smugly. “You tried to hit me over the head with a flute, once.”

“It was a mug, and _no_ , Catra, again, I will not use the Sword of She-Ra _to shave my vagina_.”

“It's the Wastes, Adora, you need to make do.”   
  
“Ughhhh...!”

They stared at each other for a moment. Catra was clearly thinking something over.

Eventually she gave Adora a very smug smile and wandered off towards the dressing room. Huffing, Adora wrapped herself in a towel and followed after her irritably. Catra approached one of the many vanity stations and had started rooting around in it.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Oh,” Catra said, airily, as she rummaged around. “Helping.”

“ _Helping_?”  
  
“Yeah,” Catra said, matter-of-factly. “That's me now, right? I'm one of the good guys. I _help.”_

“Not with—”

“Shhh. Sit down,” Catra interrupted.

Adora bristled. “Wha—”

Not looking back at her, Catra spun the chair at the vanity. “ _Sit_. Down.”

There was something in the way she said it, some steel at its core, that made Adora find herself moving before realizing it. Sometimes it was easy to see why the flag of the Horde— _Hordak's_ Horde—had once flown over everything in Etheria except the very last bastions of Rebel resistance. Catra was meant to command in the same way that Adora was meant to be in the vanguard. It was like breathing to her.

Adora approached the chair, and—

“Towel first,” Catra said.

—laid the towel in the chair and sat down.

Thank heavens for the warm humidity of the baths, or she'd be even more starkly aware of her nudity than she already was.   
  
Not that she minded being nude with Catra, but—

Well, it was just a little exposed is all.

A weirdly wet rustling sound behind her drew her attention away from this train of thought. Catra was foaming some shaving soap in a dish, apparently entranced by the work.

“You know, you can just let me do this and I'll see you later—”

“I'm _helping_ ,” Catra said, in a tone that, while pleasant and only slightly teasing was not one that brooked disagreement. “It's been two months since I saw you, so we have some catching up to do. But I am not putting up with... _that_.”

Adora glanced down at the admittedly pretty wild tangle of dirty blonde. Maybe it was because they were talking about it, but it did itch a bit.

“Yeah, but—”

“Shhh,” Catra shushed, stepping in front of her. “Spread.”

“Catra...what's...” Adora asked, gripping the arms of the chair. “What's going on...?”

Catra knelt.

Catra _knelt_ , Adora thought again. Her heart fluttered—then hammered.

There had been a lot of play since the end of the war, but this was...different. Catra's eyes were light and awake and very, very attentive—and her hands seemed very alive, one cupping the bowl and the other stirring with the brush.

Her pose was, in theory, submissive, which could be _very_ fun.

Her eyes were, in reality, predatory.

_Thrilling_.

“I'm _helping,”_ Catra said, smiling. “Come on. Spread 'em. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

_But I want you to see I want you to look I want you to_ want _to look_

Shaking her head against the unusually-unwelcome thoughts, reluctantly, Adora spread her legs.

Catra stared, face placid.

“What? Stop staring,” Adora murmured, blushing, automatically rolling her legs up to cover herself—

“Stop.”  
  
Adora stopped.

Catra looked up at her. Their gazes met, like magnetism.   
  
“You're beautiful,” Catra said, firmly. She reached up with the hand holding the brush and gently re-opened Adora's legs. “This isn't about you not being beautiful.”

“Then what is it—”

“Well, from a practical point of view, it's about how much I hate getting your hair stuck in my teeth. But more importantly,” she said, through a sly smile, “I just want to pay attention to you for awhile. Relax.”

She kissed the inside of Adora's thigh.   
  
Adora shivered. She'd missed that. Catra's kisses could be so delightfully gentle and whisper-soft.

The foam was cold—or at least, _felt_ cold as it spread on Adora's skin. Catra's strokes with the brush were firm and sure and measured, getting all the way down into the hair and to the skin beneath. It was an effervescent burn, and the foam smelled strongly of mint, making Adora wince here and there as the raw exposure grew too much.

Up one thigh. Across her mound, swirling into the thick patch of hair. Down the other...

“Catra, I can—”

“Shh. Relax.”  
  
Around her vulva, making her lips move and sway...brushing firmly and carefully, ever so close...

Down across her perineum...

“Catra...”  
  
“Adora, relax. I'm almost done.”

“It feels—”

“Good?”  
  
It _did_.

“So stop fussing,” Catra murmured through a knowing grin, continuing to brush firmly, massaging Adora's most sensitive parts.

The muscles there were still sore from running around like a maniac across the desert, and the brush was just _not enough_. Adora needed a _proper_ massage, needed strong fingers digging deep and rubbing out all the fatigue, needed—

Needed...

“Catra,” she said.

_Sighed,_ really.

Catra just glanced up at her with a thin smile.

“All done,” she said, and stood up. She briskly trotted back to the vanity and began searching around in it again.

Adora sat, nude and legs spread, and...

And...

Oh was her heart beating, though. Which was weird. This was all _so_ weird, what was Catra _thinking_?

She took a deep breath and, far from being calming, she found it—and the lingering scent of mint that had just been lovingly dabbed across the most sensitive parts of her body—quite stimulating. Maybe it was the minerals in the air, maybe it was...it was...

It was getting a little hard to think straight.

Arms looped around her from behind, as if from nowhere. Catra gently nuzzled her ear, and Adora couldn't help but let out a wordless little whine.

Catra snickered.

“Why are you doing this...?”

“Because I want to,” Catra whispered. “Hold this. Don't spill.”  
  
Numbly, distantly, Adora registered that she'd had a shallow wooden bowl full of clean water.

“I can do this myself, Catra. This is—”

“Adora, we've talked about this. About rules. About _boundaries,”_ Catra purred. “If you want me to stop you just have to ask. And I will. No questions asked.”

Adora breathed in and out a few times.

And said nothing.

Catra slunk around the chair, dragging her hand across Adora's shoulders as she did so. There was something heavy and cool in it.

“That's what I thought,” Catra said, unashamedly giving Adora a long, hungry once-over with her eyes.

Adora was made so, _so_ aware of how nude and exposed she was—how her breasts were heaving as she breathed, nipples hardening as the attention and the situation, strange as it was, began to work their magic.

Catra knelt in front of her again. Gracefully, almost fluidly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her _eyes_ , though...

The ache in the pit of Adora's stomach now very obviously had nothing to do with being sore or tired.

Catra leaned forward to be in position.

“You've had a long trip. Now, just try to sit back, and relax,” she said, in a tone that was both loving and, somehow, menacing. “Let me take _care_ of you, Adora.”

The straightrazor's edge gleamed brightly as it flashed open in Catra's hand.

“And try not to flinch.”

How to describe it?

Catra's hands were, as ever, clever and firm and sure. She wasn't shy or nervous about putting her fingers right where they needed to be to hold Adora's skin _taut,_ waiting for the sweet, burning kiss of the razor. The tips dug into Adora's tired muscles so _sweetly_ , stretching the sensitive skin...

_scrape scrape scrape_

The blade was cold, and despite the humid, warm air of the baths, as Catra cut away the hair and foam the exposed skin felt like it had been touched by a refreshingly icy wind.

Adora refused to suppress a shiver. It ran up her spine and thickened the fog around her brain.

Catra pulled the blade away, and looked up at Adora coolly.

“Don't. Flinch.”

“Catra, this is—”

“Just relax. Stay calm. Pay _attention_ ,” Catra insisted, reaching up to swish the blade in the bowl of water Adora was holding. “And don't flinch.”

_Pay attention..._

Oh. It was like _that_.

Adora realized she was grinning lazily.

Once again Catra's hands found their target expertly, on the opposite thigh this time. The tips pressed in, gently but decisively. The skin stretched.

The blade touched...

Catra glanced up at Adora, smiling very slightly.

Adora closed her eyes, and paid attention.

_Scrape scrape scrape_

The thrill of that chilly feeling of freshy-clean skin.

The sound and feeling of Catra cleaning the blade.

Then: her nimble fingers firmly grasping the needy flesh on the inside of Adora's thigh, just a little higher, a little closer...

_scrape scrape scrape_

“Catra...”  
  
“Shh.”  
  
 _Swirl, swirl_  
  
The hand moved again, higher and closer. Adora's breath caught in her throat.

_Yes, please. Please more please—_

“Adora. Relax.”

“Mmm...”

Catra's swipes with the blade were so quick, so sure. So perfectly gliding across the aching, sensitive contours of Adora's mound and labia.  
  
There was something so perfect, and so right about that. About how Catra turned a cutting edge into a tender, attentive, perfectly-measured caress.

With her eyes closed like this, it was hard not to imagine each long, cold cut and tap and scrape as coming a part of Catra's body. She could almost see them as long, blue-white lines being drawn across her body, outlining that most precious place.

The blade pulled away. Adora heard Catra shifting slightly before she swished the blade clean again.

“I missed you,” Catra said, very quietly and solemnly. “So much.”

The fingers dug in again, on the opposite side. Adora clenched her jaw to prevent a lazy sigh before responding.

“Every day...something happened...where I thought...I wish Catra were here...”

This kiss Adora was longing for came—not from the blade, but from Catra's warm lips, just above her knee.

Then the blade.

_Scrape scrape scrape_

“Ah!”

“I've spent a lot of my life missing you,” Catra continued, as if nothing of any interest was happening. “It used to hurt. Like a hole in my heart, hurt so bad I couldn't even _think_ straight.”  
  
 _Swish swish_

The fingers repositioned yet again. Adora fought hard against the impulse to move her hips to put them where she so desperately wanted them to go.

“But this time...”  
  
The cold edge was bliss.

_Scrape scrape swipe swipe_

“It was just a bit of an ache. I knew you'd be coming back. Coming back to _me_.”

Adora let out a long, shaky breath.

The blade edge rode the gentle curves around her most private place so gently, so confidently. Teasing the eager skin there. Part of her impulsively wanted the blade to _slip_ , to taste that bitter burn, to—

But no. It wasn't that kind of game.

She settled herself. Somewhat.

“I talked to Sparkles about it. Can you believe that?” Catra laughed, brightly, swishing the blade clean again. “I just...did it. Had breakfast with her and just brought it up. Didn't think twice. Crazy.”

Adora's eyes opened, heart swelling.

“Catra, that's—”

“Shh.”

There was something very pleasant about the sight of seeing the razor and Catra's lips touching, even if it was to shush her.

Adora just smiled at her lovingly for a moment before closing her eyes again.  
  
 _Oh, my brave, brave Catra._

All that remained was the patch above her vulva. For a long while Catra just gently cleaned around the edges, tending carefully to the awkward creases between the mound and Adora's legs, which were always a problem.

Finally:

_swish swish splash splash_

“She just laughed and told me to stop being so sweet,” Catra chuckled. “So I put three times the usual amount of hot pepper flakes in her dinner. Just so she knew I didn't appreciate it.”

“But...she _likes_ spicy food,” Adora managed through the haze.

“Yeah that one didn't work out for me.”

Two fingers pressed deep into the freshly-cleaned crease on the left side, turning Adora's lazy chuckle into a pleased gasp.  
  
Catra ran the blade gently across the trimmed patch of hair, not pressing all the way down to the skin. The feeling of each little follicle tugging, just a touch, then snapping back into place threatened to send another chill up Adora's spine.

“I was ready to have a really, really hard time, but honestly, I just had to wait,” Catra said, in a very unusually quiet voice. “I mean, I was lonely, but I wasn't _scared_.”

The blade stopped moving through her hair. The fingers let go.

“It was nice, not being scared.”

Adora opened her eyes. Catra was smiling up at her.

“Catra, that's—”

“Almost done,” Catra interrupted, rising to her feet and taking the bowl from Adora's hands. She swished the blade clean once again and wiped it dry expertly on her pant leg before casually spinning it closed around her finger as she strolled back to the vanity.

Well, if Adora hadn't been up and running already, then...sheesh.

She looked down. Save for some leftover patches of the shaving foam and some stray cut hairs, she was expertly shaved, save for the small, trimmed triangle she customarily retained above her whole...situation.

Well. That had been...something. Never would have thought that she'd get going from _that—_

“I said _almost_ done,” Catra purred into her ear.

Adora almost fell out of the chair. Catra could be _way_ too quiet, even without Melog's help.

Catra's right arm, bearing a damp, warm washcloth, slithered over Adora's shoulder and touched, lightly, onto her belly. The sudden contact made Adora shudder and hiss between her teeth.

“Just a little bit more, and you'll be _all clean_ ,” Catra continued, directly into Adora's ear.

Okay, the emotions bit was clearly over.

_Oh, yes, please._

The washcloth sunk, agonizingly slowly, down towards the freshly-trimmed skin. It was still a little red and raw from being shaved, and when a bead of moisture slipped down off the washcloth and onto the skin, the mineral water _burned_.

Not badly. Just enough. Good hurt.

“Oh, man, Adora,” Catra growled. “You really are wound up.”  
  
Adora's mind cleared enough to loll her head back and say, breathlessly, “I missed you.”

Catra rewarded this with a kiss on the nose and a lazy smile.

Then, lowered the washcloth.

Good hurt. _Good_ hurt. Not for long, but for that initial contact. Oh, yes.

Again, Catra's fingers showed themselves to be nimble, strong, and clever. Expertly she guided the warm dampness across all of Adora's most sensitive, private curves and deep into the little nooks and crevices, all the muscles that had been screaming for more contact, more pressure, more _attention—_

“Oh, yes,” Adora moaned. “Oh, Catra...”

“Shh. Almost done.”  
  
“Mmm. No. No—”

Catra's hand spread itself wide and flat over Adora's whole sex, her middle finger slowly slipping down Adora's entrance and waiting near the very bottom of her slit. Then, slowly, with the _perfect_ amount of gentle pressure, she dragged the washcloth _up_...

Adora bit her lower lip, but that just turned the cry of delight into a long, slow, grunt of need punctuated by a sudden gasp as Catra's fingertip brushed over her clitoris, which was now standing proudly at the top of her vulva, needy and demanding...

Then...

It ended.

Wait, it _ended_?  
  
“All done,” Catra said, pleasantly. She tossed the washcloth expertly into a basin for used towels, and proceeded to stand behind Adora, hands on her shoulders. “That looks _so_ much better.”

“Catra,” Adora whispered, gripping one of Catra's hands desperately. “Catra...you...you can't just—”

“Oh, is there something else you wanted?”  
  
Adora stared up at her teasing grin, sure she looked _desperate_ beyond belief, but she didn't care. She was already pressing her thighs together and squirming needfully. “You. Please.”  
  
“Me?” Catra said, malicious delight alive in her eyes despite her playfully surprised expression. “What can I do?”

“'m so close,” Adora whined. “You...you...”  
  
Catra leaned down and gave her a very predatory grin. “What about me?”

She licked her lips, slowly and _very_ obviously.

Adora must have started all but drooling because Catra burst into high, cruel laughter. She started playing with Adora's hair idly.

“Say it.” she said, in the same irresistible tone she'd used to command entire armies.

“Your...mouth,” Adora hissed. “Your tongue. Please, I want to...”

Catra smiled the cruel, satisfied smile of a triumphant tyrant, running her hand through Adora's hair. 

And then, expression barely changing, got on her knees in front of Adora.

She raised a hand. Crooked a finger. _Come here_.

Adora shifted herself forward, feeling herself spreading open.

_Look at me look at how excited I am how much I need you you did this touch me eat me make it happen I love you just tell me what you want I'll do anything_

Catra took in a deep, satisfied breath. Usually Catra drawing attention to that kind of thing struck Adora as a little odd, but right now she _wanted_ to be smelled, _desperately_ wanted to be _tasted—_

“The funniest thing to me when you get like this is that it's like you forget you have hands of your own,” Catra mused. “You could just take care of yourself...”  
  
“No,” Adora whined. “Want you.”

Catra smiled fiercely again.

“Please, Catra,” Adora insisted. “It's so much better. So much _better_ , your tongue, I need it—”

Catra let her mouth hang open a bit. Her tongue drooped, lower and lower.

“ _Please_...”  
  
“I suppse I've been teasing you enough this whole time,” Catra muttered. “And it's not like I haven't wanted this for months.”  
  
She _dove_ in, lifting one of Adora's legs up over her shoulder and holding it in a deathgrip.  
  
Adora had to grind her teeth to keep from screaming.

_FINALLY_

Catra's hands were really, really nice.

Catra's tongue was _heaven_.

And she was enthusiastic about it, too, in a way Adora still kinda wasn't. Not that she minded giving Catra head, she just knew who was better at it because _Catra was so much better at it._

She paid so much attention, was so precise...learned _really_ quickly how to tease and massage, how to use her lips and face and nose to stimulate Adora's needy, needy body. All of it, not just her labia and her clit, but her vaginal entrance and mons too.

Adora, in a very typical Adora way, just dove in and hoped for the best. It usually worked out.

Catra was careful. Precise. Catra had a _plan_.

Catra made Adora want to _scream_. Bow and Glimmer were always complaining.

She knew her eyes were wide with delight as Catra's tongue expertly dug into her. As Catra made a point of giving deep, satisfied growls as she lapped and licked, and _sucked—_ tenderly taking the little folds between her lips and humming, or looping her tongue around Adora's proudly erect clit and letting Adora thrust into her face wantonly.

She was _proud_ to admit that Catra was better at this. She was _proud_ to want this, to _need_ this, to have her body totally overwhelmed by her beautiful, brilliant, _powerful_ Catra, to experience this amount of raw, furious attention and devoted love.

“Oh, Catra, I needed this,” Adora sighed, as Catra came up for air. “I needed you...”

“Yes. You did.”  
  
The seeds of a snide reply were lost as Catra dived back in. Catra's grip on her thigh tightened, and the very tips of those deadly, deadly claws were teasing at her flesh.

It was happening. It was coming.

“Say it.”  
  
She didn't know how Catra had time to command her, but Adora didn't _care_ this was so _good_. Her head was swimming.

“Oh. Oh, it's...I'm going to...”  
  
“ _Who_ made you—?”

Adora brought a shaky, trembling hand down and ran it through Catra's hair.

“You. Catra. You. Oh, I love this, I love _you—_ ”

It happened.

Her body seized, tensed, froze.

Catra didn't stop.

This, too was part of Catra's brilliance as a lover. She _paid attention_ , even as Adora rode wave after wave of soaring pleasure. She kept nudging it, fueling it, feeding it, keeping it alive, directing it just with her _tongue_ somehow. She didn't _let_ Adora stop.

She was relentless. She was implacable. She studied your weaknesses, undermined your defenses. She showed no mercy and brooked no quarter.

She was Catra.

_Thank every star in the sky_.

Eventually— _eventually—_ Adora's body couldn't be teased, stroked, or coerced into orgasm anymore. Catra let go of her leg and helped her sit back up straight—or straight-ish, struggling to clear her head and catch her breath.

Adora breathed in and out in great gulps. Her body was still deciding whether or not it hurt, and she wasn't sure she could tell. All she knew is that she'd rarely, if ever, had cramps in both feet after letting Catra have a go at her.

“Here,” she heard, and then another hot, damp towel landed on her face. There was a faint hint of a familiar smell, so she wasn't surprised to see Catra irritably trying to dry around her mouth and nose as she pulled it away.

Adora ignored Catra's smug grin as she cleaned herself up.   
  
“What?”

“Not to complain,” Adora said, rising on wobbly legs to toss the washcloth into the bin, “but, uh...?”

Catra's smug grin grew, somehow, more smug. She glanced off at nothing in particular for awhile, then conspicuously began idly flexing her claws in front of herself.

“Dunno. Maybe it's just something about you, and me, and sharp objects that sounds like a good time.”

Adora wiggled a hand, producing a familiar golden glow. “Oh, I've got a sharp object for you.”

“Which, again, you could have spared yourself this whole thing if you'd been willing to think outside the box about.”  
  
“I am _not_ using—”

“Yeah, yeah...lazy,” Catra smarmed. She pulled a robe off a nearby rack and tossed it to Adora, who pulled it on with a bemused sort of grin.

Catra waited nonchalantly as Adora wandered about the baths gathering her things. Only now, outside the heat of the moment, did it occur to her that at _any time_ , someone might have come in—

“I asked Castaspella for some time alone,” Catra called out, as if reading her mind. “Well, to tell the truth, she offered. She's kind of a meddler, huh?”

“Remind you of anyone we know?” Adora asked, walking back towards her.

“I dunno,” Catra said, half-shrugging. “She seems to think our whole thing is _super_ romantic and dramatic, so she wants to help. I'll take being a little too eager to help over mind games any day.”

“Careful what you wish for. You weren't there for Glimmer's coronation.”

“Oh no, a meddling authority figure!” Catra exclaimed, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead tragically. “Whatever will I, Catra, the obedient and grateful, ever do?”

She snickered brightly. It was kind of beautiful.

Adora smiled, and took her hand. Catra suddenly looked unsure.   
  
“Hey, Catra,” Adora said, looking down at her fondly. “About that stuff with Glimmer. I'm really proud of you.”

Catra—

Even to Adora, who had over the last year become more and more conscious that she wasn't always great at picking up on people's signals, it was obvious that Catra fought with herself for a moment.

She was so brave.

“Ah, well, I suppose she deserved something to get on my case about,” Catra said, grinning a little bashfully. “It's only fair.”  
  
“True,” Adora admitted. “Still proud of you.”  
  
Catra pulled her hand away sharply, but didn't stop smiling.

Adora let her feel for awhile. That was something Catra needed, as much as she needed to feel powerful.

She was so happy she could provide her beloved Catra with both.

Finally.

After a few moments, Catra took in a deep breath, then turned a very sly smile on Adora.

“If you're really that proud,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, “I may have brought our _little friend_ along.”

Adora raised her eyebrows. A _lot_ of thoughts happened all at once. “Oh? Oh! Oh...”

“And after having a good long look at what two months in the desert have done for you, muscle-wise, I'm looking forward to seeing just how proud you are,” Catra murmured, taking Adora's hand again. She started leading Adora away towards the guest quarters, turning back with a grin.

Adora sighed and let herself be dragged away. This wasn't exactly how she'd expected her relaxing visit to Mystacor to go, but she wasn't about to complain.

The rest of the night was consumed with a lengthy and _very_ meddlesome dinner with Castaspella, who had ten thousand things to talk about that were of very little interest to anyone else. Adora let it wash over her, pleased and safe in the feeling of Catra's tail gently wrapping and unwrapping itself around her leg.

Finally, they were freed—accompanied by far too many knowing winks from Castaspella—and they retired to their chambers.

They embraced. They kissed. They made elaborate and energetic love for a very long time, as only young people who are in love like young people can.

They got tired, and looked out at the stars.

“Welcome home,” Catra whispered.

Adora just laid her head on Catra's shoulders, and relaxed, and was in love. There was nothing more to want.

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a weird one. Just an idea that got stuck in my head after a scene I saw, and as many people have complained, I am inclined to not just get to the point. So here it is--the point, carefully and lovingly wielded by Catra.


End file.
